


The Prince and the Duke

by ohnojustimagine



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:01:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25775536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohnojustimagine/pseuds/ohnojustimagine
Summary: An arranged marriage to two rival men is not always easy to negotiate.
Relationships: Humberto Carrillo/Original Female Character/Angel Garza
Kudos: 5





	The Prince and the Duke

You are the youngest of five sisters, but for some time now you have been the only child remaining in your parents' home. You have watched your sisters leave one by one, all to be married to noble gentlemen of your parents' choosing, always aware that sooner or later, your own time would come.

And though you are now of marriageable age, it seems you are not an easy match, as several potential suitors have already come and gone, apparently less than impressed by your manner, the way you carry yourself. Your mother tells you you need to be more reserved, less bold, as you have a habit of speaking your mind, a trait which unfortunately does not endear you to all. And lately, you have begun to wonder if she is right, because you are growing restless, waiting for your life to truly begin, but you tell yourself it will happen soon, that there surely must be a man who will appreciate you for who you are.

One dull afternoon you are sitting at the window, and though you are supposed to be sewing, embroidering the hem of a nightgown for your trousseau, you are instead staring out wistfully at the mist that hangs over the lake by your parents' house, your mind wandering aimlessly. You quickly turn back to your sewing as you hear someone approaching, glancing up to see your father entering the room with your mother trailing along behind him, a pensive expression clouding her features.

Your father comes to stand in front of you, and for a moment does not speak, seeming uncharacteristically apprehensive. But then he clears his throat, and addresses you. "My dear child," he says, "I must inform you I have of late been corresponding with a good family of very high standing, and that we have just received an offer for your hand in marriage."

Your mother sighs quietly, dabbing at the corner of her eyes with a lace handkerchief, and such a reaction does not fill you with confidence.

"Who is it?" you ask, your heart sinking a little at thought that perhaps your intended husband is very old, or ugly, or poor. "What is wrong?"

"The offer is from the royal family of the kingdom of Garza," your father explains.

You have not heard of such a place, but your mother makes a small noise of distress at even the name.

You frown to yourself, and your father continues. "The kingdom has some customs that are..." He pauses. "They are _different_ to our way of doing things."

"How?"

"There is legend of a curse that once killed all daughters born to the family, some supernatural nonsense from long ago." You father shakes his head. "It is no doubt just an excuse for their habits, but for generations now, the royal men of Garza..." He again stops before continuing, taking a deep breath. "The men share a wife."

"They... _share_?" you say, not comprehending.

"You would have _two_ husbands."

"I would..." You still do not understand. "Two?"

"You would be married to two men," your father states. "They would share you between them."

Your mother lets out a sob, rushing from the room, and you do not know what to say, but your father takes out a small, delicately engraved silver pocket frame, opening it to reveal two finely painted portraits. "This," he says, pointing to the one on the left, "is the youngest son of the King, Prince Humberto." And he is remarkably handsome, you think, with slicked-back hair, and soft, kindly eyes, the hint of dimples either side of his face. "And this," you father goes on, finger sliding across to the other section of the frame, "is his cousin, Angel, Duke of Garza." He is just as handsome, but wears a more rakish expression, something of a mischievous smirk hovering about his lips, his eyes shining in a way that makes your heart beat a little faster.

"Would you be willing, my child?" your father asks. "They are an extremely wealthy and respected family, so you would be well provided for." He takes your hand, holding it. "Your mother and I grow old, and it would gladden our hearts to see you settled."

_Two_ , you think to yourself. _Two men_. Two extremely _fine-looking_ men.

"Yes, Father," you tell him, gazing up at him, careful to keep your expression demure, not betray the direction in which your thoughts begin to stray. "I would be willing."

-

You are being fitted for your wedding dress, and your mother sits by you, watching, though she has barely spoken to you for days.

"Do you..." she says, suddenly, and you hear her take a short breath. "Do you understand what it will _mean_? To serve two husbands?"

"I can guess," you reply to her shortly, trying to hold still as the seamstress adjusts the bodice of your dress. It is very beautiful, you think, far finer and more womanly than anything you have ever before been allowed to wear.

"Men are..." your mother starts, then stops. "They have _needs,_ " she continues, pointedly. "And to be required to satisfy the needs of _two_ men is not a burden you should be taking on lightly."

And yes, you _should_ be fearful, you know that, but instead a small, secret flare of heat runs through your body, seeming to settle somewhere deep and low inside you.

"I'm sure I will manage," you tell her.

She sighs. "You were always a wilful girl," she says, bitterness in her voice. "Perhaps they will tame you."

"Perhaps they will," you muse, staring at yourself in the glass before you. The dress is snug under your breasts, lifting them full and high, and you turn a little to the side, admiring your reflection, wondering what it might mean, to be _tamed._

-

It is several weeks' journey by carriage to the Kingdom of Garza, and though the trip is somewhat arduous, you never lose that sense of nervous anticipation, some strange mix of hope and trepidation stirring you, contrasting tensions that push and pull until you feel as if you cannot think.

But you force yourself to keep your head, your eyes forward, and finally you arrive at the palace the day before your wedding. You are given a short while to tidy yourself before you are whisked off to a formal afternoon gathering, where you will meet your fiances for the first time.

You take a deep breath as you enter the room, your heart fluttering light in your chest as you see them turn and walk towards you, for they are every bit as attractive as their portraits indicated.

"I am Humberto," says the Prince, the one with the dimples, which are even more beautifully pronounced as he gives you a warm smile, taking your hand and raising it to his lips, kissing your fingers as he regards at you with a delighted wonder.

"And I am Angel," the Duke interjects, though, as you suspected, you can already see there is very little of the angel about him beyond his looks. He seems quite delightfully devilish, his eyes sparkling as he takes your other hand, dropping a lingering kiss on it.

They both straighten up, Humberto glaring at Angel, who looks back with a pronounced sneer, and _oh_ , you think, because this is something you had _not_ expected.

Because it would appear your fiances are not fond of one another, that, while they might be blood-related family, they do not get along, not at all, and you have no idea what that will mean for you and your life with them.

Yet there is no turning back, not now, and so you smile, uneasily, allowing yourself to enjoy their attentions.

-

The very next day, you stand between them at the altar, every breath you take tight in your chest as the priest speaks of the sanctities of marriage. Your husbands-to-be are dressed all their finery, so manly and handsome that you can barely stand to look at them, Humberto on your left, Angel on your right, each holding one of your hands in both of their own.

The two of them repeat their vows in unison, promising to love and honor you, cherish you, and you in turn swear to honor them as your husbands, to forever love and obey.

"I do," you say, and the priest decrees you married in a covenant never to be unbroken

They both lift one side of the veil that covers your face, gently arranging it back behind your head, and then kiss you demurely on your cheeks, either side of your face. You blush a little, feeling their lips too-brief and soft on your skin; your own mouth left wanting, but you know the time will come for that. _Soon_ , you tell yourself, and try to be patient.

-

There is a feast, and music, and you dance with both your husbands, separately and together, Humberto gazing at you in reverent adoration, Angel with an expression that is equally adoring but also suggestive of somewhat less noble intentions.

The hours pass quickly, and soon it is time for the three of you to retire for your wedding night. Already in your time here you have overheard enough talk and innuendo to understand that most, though not all, wives occupy one bedchamber with _both_ their husbands, and you would be very, _very_ interested to know how that works.

But it seems you will not find out, because it is clear Humberto and Angel are not willing to share you, as they lead you off through the palace to an out-of-the-way corridor that houses three separate doors, lined up along one side.

You stand in front of the first of them, nervous, but Humberto is quick to allay any confusion. "This is my bedchamber," he explains, nodding at the door before you. "And that," he continues, gesturing with some disdain at the farthest entrance, "is Angel's. And this..." He points to the door in the middle. "This is for you, as a private room for dressing." He smiles at you. "I have had the servants unpack all your things, and you will find all that you need in there."

You nod, grateful, still not understanding what they have planned, who you will spend your first night with, but it appears that it is already settled.

"For tonight, I will have the pleasure of your company," Humberto announces. "As Prince, I outrank my cousin, and so it is only proper."

"Only proper because I have _agreed_ to it," Angel interjects before giving you a sly smile. "I always prefer a woman with some... _experience_ ," he says.

"I hope you are not insinuating our bride is of low morals," Humberto snaps, back, practically bristling with indignation.

"I would never do such a thing," Angel rejoins, and you can tell that, for once, he is perfectly sincere. "I have no doubt of her purity." His eyes shine as he looks at you. "But I'm sure she would rather the disappointment of your attentions to be over and done with before she enjoys what a _real_ man can provide."

"Please do not insult me on this, of all nights," Humberto says, taking a step towards Angel, who quickly begins to back away, laughing.

"I will see you tomorrow, my sweet," he calls, blowing you a kiss as he turns, entering his own chambers, closing the door behind him. You blush, and turn to see Humberto scowling.

"I am sorry," he says. "My cousin is..." He shakes his head, as if consciously damping down his anger, and then takes a deep breath. "But I will not let him spoil our first night together," he states, firmly, and then opens the door to his chambers, ushering you inside.

The room is sumptuously appointed, but your attention is so drawn to Humberto that your surroundings barely even register, the thrill of finally being alone with him like a rush in your veins, dizzying and intoxicating.

"You are so beautiful," he tells you, softly.

"As are you, your majesty," you reply.

"No," he instructs you."No formalities, I am your husband now." He gently cups your face between his hands, gazing down at you. "Call me Humberto."

"Humberto," you repeat, letting the _r_ roll across your tongue.

He smiles, and you hold your breath as he leans in to kiss you, his mouth soft and gentle against yours. His lips linger, his breath warm, and then you feel his tongue, licking its way slowly into your mouth, hot and sweet against your own tongue which responds as if by instinct, tangled in a dance you feel as if you already know. You close your eyes, sure you are falling, wishing for this to never stop, but when it does, when Humberto at last pulls back, your mouths separating, you are instantly certain that you are ready for far more than just a kiss.

You turn away from him, looking back over your shoulder, encouraging, and he understands, unbuttoning your dress, carefully helping you remove it, unfastening your stockings and petticoats, letting every layer that covers you slip away until you are naked in front of him. And though you have been taught that you should feel ashamed by a lack of modesty, Humberto looks at you with nothing but the purest, most loving desire. You feel as if you are glowing under his gaze, made into something new, the woman you were always meant to be.

"So, _so_ beautiful," he murmurs, taking off his own coat and shirt, and it is your turn to stare, at his body so strong and yet so fine and smooth. You want to touch him, but instead he takes your hand, leading your towards the bed. He helps you up, watching you lie back, making sure you are settled comfortably before he joins you, arranging himself to lie beside you.

He kisses your mouth again, strands of his hair falling soft across your face, but then his lips wander, exploring, as he begins to kiss you _all_ over, from your head to your toes, until every inch of your skin is tingling, and then, without warning, he parts your legs and kisses you _there_ too.

And you gasp, because you could not have even conceived of such a thing, not when he is licking you, his tongue soft and then hard, pressed against you, _inside_ you and then not, seeming to find places you had no idea existed, your body responding to him in ways you would not have dreamed were possible. You feel a pleasure that you have no name for, the heat of it increasing within you like something catching fire.

But then he stops, and you hear yourself whimper in helpless frustration. "I..." you say, not having the words for what you are experiencing.

Yet Humberto seems to understand. "I want you," he says, softly. "I need to be with you, my love."

You do not trust yourself to speak, but you nod, staring up at him wide-eyed, practically breathless with anticipation.

He unfastens his pants, lowering them, and though you do not dare to glance down at what is between his legs, you _feel_ it, brushing against your thigh, nudging thick at your entrance, and you gasp.

He hesitates at the sound, giving you a questioning look, but you are certain. "Yes," you whisper. "Please."

He reaches down, holding himself steady as he enters you; slowly, slowly, but there is no need, as his attentions have left you more than ready, your body willingly receiving him into you, opening wet to him. You hear yourself moan, filled by him, and when you think it cannot be better, he begins to move himself, in and out of you, his hips thrusting with a vigor that you have no choice but to surrender yourself to.

And again you feel that heat stir within you, rising like a crescendo to heights that become more and more dizzying. But it is even better this time, because it is clear that Humberto is experiencing his own similar ascent, your mutual need becoming more and more urgent, until it is as if you are one, connected in a way you could have never imagined as you fall into each other, pleasure spilling over you. You cling to him as he says your name, again and again, and when you are both spent, you lie there, panting to try and catch your breath as Humberto smiles at you, his face lit up, kissing you, softly.

"I am so happy," he says. "I never dreamed I could be this happy."

"And I too," you reply, gently smoothing his hair back and away from his face, and he kisses you again.

"We are not expected in court tomorrow," he tells you, pulling you close to him, wrapped up in his arms. "We have the day together."

"Good," you say, nodding, a sweet tiredness drifting over you, sleep gradually taking you, still in Humberto's embrace. 

You do not know what time it is when you both wake, but it does not seem to matter, for there is nothing but each other. You eat and drink and talk and laugh and join together once more, and you are certain that this was meant to be, that this is exactly where you belong.

But however blissful, the day still passes, the afternoon drawing in, and Humberto begins to frown.

"What is wrong?" you ask, concerned.

He is silent for a long minute, but then says, "You will have to go to _him_ , now. The Duke, my cousin." Humberto shakes his head. "I wish you could stay. I wish you could be only mine."

And while you would be quite content to remain with him, you find that something stirs inside you, restless, a curiosity that desires to know what awaits you in Angel's chambers. "I cannot," you tell him. "I am married to both of you."

Humberto kisses you, and says, fiercely, "I will not let him take advantage of you, I promise. If he is improper in any way, then you only have to call for me, and I will be there in a moment."

"I understand," you tell him, but you are already pulling away, knowing you cannot linger here anymore, that you are needed elsewhere. "I will see you again," you say, "the night after this?"

"Of course," he assures you. "I will be waiting."

You nod, trying to put his anguished expression from your mind as you open the door, peering out carefully.

There is no one in the corridor, and so you creep out, still naked, hurrying into the middle room. Just as Humberto told you, all your things are here, and while your own dresses are laid out carefully, there is also a selection of newer, even finer gowns which you would like to admire, but you have other priorities in this moment.

There is a small alcove with a washstand, a jug and a basin filled with water that steams lightly, obviously warmed, and a folded cloth lying nearby. And so you wash yourself off, wondering if Humberto's scent will linger on your skin, if Angel will be able to smell him on you. The idea of it is strangely exciting to you, but you put the thought from your mind, pulling on a white slip made of the finest, thinnest silk, edged with lace.

You again make your way out into the strangely, almost eerily silent corridor, your footsteps muffled as you walk towards Angel's door. You pause for a moment, then knock, hearing his voice from within as he calls out, "Enter."

And so you do, into a room that is not quite as lavishly decorated as Humberto's, but still most fine, perhaps a touch more manly in its simplicity.

Angel is sitting there on the bed, reading through some papers, casually and unashamedly naked. "Ah," he says, his face lighting up at the sight of you. "My bride. I have been waiting for you." He stands up, and you cannot help but let your eyes dip downwards to his lower body, the most prominent part of which you can see is already beginning to awaken. He follows your gaze, and when you look back up, he is smirking at you, the expression on his face so very knowing that it makes you blush, glancing away from him.

"I hope my cousin treated you well?" he says.

"Very well."

Angel gives a dismissive little shrug. "He is at least a well-mannered boy." He regards you, something burning hot in his eyes, and an answering fire stirs to ignite inside you. "I myself," he goes on, "am _less_ well-mannered." He smiles. "And less of a boy. More of a _man_."

"Is that so?" you ask, daringly coquettish, suddenly feeling bold, sure he will like it.

And it seems he does, his smile widening as he approaches you, closer. You hold your breath as he reaches out to trace the tip of one finger slowly up the center of your throat, taking hold of your chin and tilting your face up towards him, and this time, you do not hesitate, knowing what you want, letting him lean in, opening your mouth to him and kissing him deeply.

His hands slide down over your shoulders, arms wrapping around you as he walks the two of you towards to the bed, falling, pulling you down with him as still he kisses you, only stopping to murmur,"Your mouth is so sweet, my pretty dove."

He nips lightly at your bottom lip, growling playfully, and you giggle in delight, laughing as his eyes sparkle at you. But then, suddenly, he seems to become more serious, and you see him swallow, as if perhaps nervous. And he takes your hand, gently pulling it down his body, towards what lies proud between his legs. You do not resist, allowing him to guide you, and when you reach it, his _manhood,_ you startle slightly at the unexpected feel of it, glancing up at him, breathless in your surprise.

"Touch it," he whispers, and you do, careful to temper your eagerness, stroking your fingertips from the root to the tip, sitting yourself up a little so that you may see what you are doing. "Hold it," he encourages you, and your fingers curl around it as if by instinct, the heavy weight of it resting against your palm. You move your hand up and down over it experimentally, and Angel moans, the sound of it electric in your veins, and so you repeat the motion, again, and then again observing his reactions curiously, noting the places where your touch seems to garner the most response.

He looks at you, his face flushed, and you pause, waiting for him to speak.

"Would..." he starts, and you see him inhale deeply before he can continue. "Would you use your mouth for me? Do you want to _taste_?" He's watching you, his gaze intent, and you can see that he is uncertain as to whether you will do as he asks. But you are more than willing, and not only because you want to please him, but because you want to _know_ , and so you breathe in, and then lean over him.

You are unsure as to how to begin, so you first pepper soft little kisses up the length of it, until you reach the place where it flares out into the rounder, fuller... _head_ , you decide to call it, and you might wish you knew the proper terms but there will be time for that, you know.

There is a drop of liquid beading at the opening on the tip of it, and you dare to lick it away, tasting salty-sweet, Angel's whole body jerking at the touch of your tongue. His response makes you bolder, and so you lick more thoroughly, using the broad flat of your tongue, and he urges you on. "Yes," he whispers, the word almost hissed out, "just like that." And so you continue, until it becomes obvious what action must be next, and you wet your lips nervously, inhaling before carefully taking the entire head into your mouth, feeling it smooth against your tongue. For a minute you simply hold it there, but then, as if instinctively, you suckle on it, as lightly as you are able. And it seems you must be doing something right, because the noise Angel makes is like nothing you have ever heard.

"Oh, my lovely," he moans out, and for a moment his head falls back in apparent ecstasy, but then he stares at you, his eyes steadier, curious. "Did you do this for Humberto?" he asks.

You let him slip from your mouth, gazing up at him, and say, "No."

"And for no one else before him?"

"Never."

"So perhaps I _am_ still your first." He smiles at you. "You are very talented," he says, and you again blush, smiling back at him.

"May I..." you nod at his member, asking permission to resume your task.

"You most certainly may," he says, laughing breathlessly. "You may do this as often as you like."

And so you continue, exploring him with your tongue and lips and hand, until he is writhing with need, his hands in your hair, hips lifting off the bed as he pushes up into your mouth.

"Wait," he cries out, suddenly, and you back away hurriedly, worried you have displeased him, but it seems the opposite is true. "I do not want..." You can see his chest rising and falling as he struggles to catch his breath, and it fills you with an awed wonder that it is _you_ , who has taken him to such a state. "I do not want," he goes on, "to... _finish_ like this today, for our first time." He raises himself off the bed slightly, leaning back on his elbows. "I want to be inside you."

You nod, showing him you understand, and he smiles. "Can you take this off?" he asks, toying with the material of your slip, and you remove it without hesitation, revelling in his expression as he stares at your body, the hunger in his eyes plain to see.

"Oh, I need you," he says, and beckons to you, guiding you to straddle his thighs, your bent knees either side of his body, and it is plain even to someone as inexperienced as you what he has in mind.

"We can go slow, if you wish," he says, though his voice betrays that that is not what he wants.

And it is not what you need, so you shake your head as you again take his length in your hand, moving so you are over him, then lowering yourself down, letting him fill you.

He is thicker inside you than his cousin, and you shift slightly, adjusting to the feeling of it, so broad and deep it sends shivers through you.

Angel runs his hands up your thighs, holding on to you, as if to encourage you. "Now, ride me, my sweet."

You begin to move on him, the motion of it coming to you easily, naturally, and Angel's hips fall into rhythm with yours, your bodies seeming to come together with an intuitive, familiar ease, like you have known one another before, as if you were both made to be together in this way.

And his enjoyment is far more vocal than that of his cousin, as he moans with a brazen, unashamed abandon, and for a brief moment, your thoughts stray, wondering if Humberto will be able to hear this from his own room, and what he will think. 

But such distractions are quickly driven from you mind as Angel thrusts up into you, and you again find yourself swept up in desire, taken over by it, as one with Angel as you both finish in perfect time, staring into each other's eyes, peak after peak until you are overcome, and all you can do is surrender yourself, letting go.

And then you smile down at him, breathless. He answers with his own smile, rearing up off the bed and then pulling you down with him as you laugh, wrapped in his arms, kissing you as if he will never stop.

-

The day to day running of the palace is overseen by the queen, who rules with an iron fist that does not require the assistance of a lowly daughter-in-law, and so you have very little in the way of actual duties, only being required to appear in court beside your husbands for one or two days every week.

Which means your time is mostly your own, though you find plenty to amuse yourself, as the palace has a vast library, filled with books that you would never have been allowed to read at home, and extensive gardens you happily explore, finding many beauty spots where you like to sit, watching the sky, waiting for evening to fall.

Because it is the nights that you live for, alternating between your Duke and your Prince, and while they are as different as two men could ever be, they both have introduced you to delights you would not have ever dreamed of as being possible.

But...

But.

They begin to grow restless, you can tell, because it seems that whatever rivalry existed between them before your arrival has only been inflamed by your presence in their lives. Every time you leave one to go to the other they become more and more resentful, bitter and surly in a way that sometimes frightens you. And when you are in court with both of them, it is impossible to miss the way they glare at each other, barely containing their loathing, jealousy threatening to consume them like the monster it is. 

"What if you had to choose?" Humberto asks you, one night. "Who would you choose?"

And you know what he wishes you to say, but you cannot lie to him. "I would never choose," you tell him, as gently as you can. "I am married to both of you, you are _both_ my husbands."

He closes his eyes, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath. "I cannot think of it," he says. "I cannot stand to think of him touching you."

"You do not need to think of it, my love," you tell him. "Be with me now, in this moment. That is all that matters. Right now, I am no one but yours."

He shakes his head, hurt written plain over that handsome face, and you cannot bear to see it.

"Show me," you beg. "Show me that I belong to you."

And he does, but after, he turns away from you, silent. You curl up against his back, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade, but his body is stiff and unyielding

-

The next night, when you enter Angel's chambers, he is waiting with a goblet of wine in his hand, and you can see that he is already quite thoroughly drunk. He does not say anything to you, grabbing you roughly, pulling off your clothes, barely touching you before he pushes you down onto the bed and enters you, taking you with a force darker than you have ever before seen in him.

Until now, he has always given the utmost care that you both derive equal pleasure from your time together but tonight, he simply _takes_ you, unheeding of your enjoyment, the act feeling more like an expression of anger than one of love.

After, he stares at you, his eyes dark. "I hate him," he says. "I hate that he is allowed to touch you." He climbs off the bed unsteadily, picking up his goblet and taking another deep swig of his wine. "You should be _mine_ , and mine alone."

You do not know how to reply, watching in quiet anguish as he staggers over to sit in the chair in front of the fireplace, gazing emptily into the flames. And it is not so long before you see him slump down, the wine overtaking him. The goblet falls to the floor, a dark stain spreading slowly over the rug.

You sigh, setting the drink upright, cleaning up the wine with a dampened cloth.

Angel does not stir, and you leave him in the chair, crawling back into bed alone, lying awake, thinking.

-

And so, the evening after, you ready yourself for bed, dressing in your finest nightgown, and then take Humberto's hand, leading him out of his own chambers and down the corridor. "What are you doing?" he demands, though he follows you.

"I would like to speak with both of you."

"I do not want..." he says, but you are already opening the door to Angel's bedchamber.

"Leave," he snarls as soon as he sees Humberto. "You are not welcome here."

"I have brought him," you say. "I wish for him to be here."

"Well, I wish for him to leave," Angel replies, standing before both of you, eyes staring daggers at his cousin.

But you take his hand, still holding Humberto's in your other, glancing between them anxiously. You lift Humberto's fingers to your mouth, kissing them softly, then do the same for Angel, your lips brushing over his tense, whitened knuckles as Humberto looks away in disgust.

"Would you make me _watch_ you be with him?" he says. "Would you be so cruel to me?"

"No," you reply, "not watch." You take a breath. "I want to be with both of you. _Together._ "

"Never," Angel spits out.

"I will not." Humberto shakes his head, his mouth set, eyes hard.

"You _will,_ " you tell them, your tone suddenly sharp, your voice raised and they both stare at you in obvious astonishment, seemingly taken aback by the vehemence of your words. "I have had more than enough of these petty, foolish jealousies. I want you to _see_ how I feel. About both of you."

They stand there, visibly glowering with anger, but they do not protest further for now.

And it is Humberto you turn to first, tilting your head up to kiss that full, lovely mouth, but it is closed to you, pressed tight.

"Kiss me, my Prince," you whisper.

"I cannot," he says.

"You can," you reply, your tongue easing past his lips, and for a moment, he does not respond, but then he kisses you back, restrained, but there's something desperate there, something you can almost _taste_.

You hear Angel make a noise of obvious displeasure but you keep tight hold of his hand, and when you are done with Humberto, you shift enough to face his cousin.

And Angel does not in any way resist your attentions, instead taking your mouth with an ostentatious vigor, and you know it is mostly because he wants to make Humberto jealous, but it serves your purpose just as well. You pull away, and he leans forward, chasing the kiss, but you shake your head, smiling wistfully.

"My loves," you say, softly. "You give me so much, I am so very, very lucky." You look at them, both so handsome yet so very different, the two of them somehow managing to be everything you have ever needed. "I want you to understand that you both have _all_ of me, that every part of me belongs to you."

You draw in a breath, knowing what you must do, and then kneel, in front of both of them, unfastening Humberto's pants first, freeing his manhood but not touching him beyond that, not until you have repeated your actions on Angel. And while they are certainly showing some _interest,_ neither of them is at any kind of fullness, and so you start to stroke them, taking one member in each of your hands, feeling them respond to your touch in a way that gives you hope even as it makes your own body begin to awaken.

You take Angel in your mouth, sucking on him, your tongue circling around his head in that way he loves, your hand still working lightly on Humberto.

You glance up and over at him, seeing the frown still on his face, and you pull away from Angel, dropping a brief kiss at his tip before you shift across to his cousin.

"I..." Humberto starts, but you hush him, soothing.

"Let me please you," you murmur, licking your lips, sliding them down wet over him. He moans, quietly, as if he is trying to stifle the sound, and you hear Angel hiss in a breath as your hand caresses up his length.

You move back and forth between them, your mouth on one, your hand on the other and you have experience enough now to know exactly what will most excite them, but you do not let either of them get close to reaching completion. You watch them, observing the expressions on their faces as you attend to them, and slowly, gradually, you can see their focus begin change, their attention drawn away from each other and on to you. And so you redouble your efforts, doing everything you can to satisfy _both_ of them, trying to make your actions not just physically but _visually_ engaging, all shyness gone as you lick and suck and moan around them, letting them see and hear plainly what it does for you, to honor them in this way.

And by the time you stop, they are both painfully erect, both visibly breathing hard, two sets of eyes deep and dark, as if overtaken by lust.

You stand up and look at them, and for the first time, you are _sure_ , certain that you are more than enough for the two of them, that your true need is to be pleased by _both_ of them, together. "Do you want me?" you say, stripping off your nightgown, crawling on the bed, lying back. "Then you must take me," you tell them.

You open yourself, body splayed wantonly, invitingly, and they look at you, then at each other. And you do not know what unspoken agreement passes between them, but you _see_ it, a peace seemingly declared, however temporary, as they both climb onto the bed, looming over you, ready and wanting.

They each take you in turn, working together in a way that might surprise you, but there is something natural and right about it, one inside you and then the other, kissing you, touching you, deliberately delaying their gratification until you have reached yours, again and again.

You are almost spent by the time they finish themselves, trembling beneath them, overwhelmed in the best possible way as Humberto thrusts himself into you, moaning, barely having moved off you before Angel is inside you, impatiently satisfying his need, your own desire threatening to consume you once again, but then he is done.

You whine, helpless, and they soothe you, lying either side of you, kissing you until you calm, and then not stopping, Angel teasingly nibbling at your ear and Humberto licking your neck, their hands on you until you begin to ache with renewed want. But you do not need more, for now.

"Do you see?" you ask. "What you both give me?"

"Perhaps," Humberto says, as if relenting just the tiniest amount.

"Maybe," Angel allows, cautiously.

You laugh at their stubbornness, saying firmly, "And now, we will rest."

"Can you not send him back to his own room?" Angel complains.

"No," you say, for you have decided. "From this time on, the three of us will spend our every night together."

" _Every_ night?" they reply in dismayed unison.

"Every night," you say, and though they both seem to be prepared to argue, you cut them off shortly. "Do you wish to please me?"

"Of course," Angel answers.

"It is my only desire," Humberto says.

"Then you will do as I ask." You settle in, comfortable between them, perfectly, contentedly happy. "Now we will sleep and in the morning, the two of you will make love to me again."

"We're going to need a bigger bed," Angel grumbles.

"Then we will see the palace carpenters tomorrow and have them make one for us."

"I still hate him," Humberto mutters quietly.

"I still hate _you_ ," Angel rejoins.

And though you have no doubt that that is true, there is less fire remaining in their words.

"Well," you say, "that may be, but I love you." You smile. " _Both_ of you."


End file.
